


a little sweetness in my life

by plinys



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: There’s something poetic about it. The best man and the maid of honor.





	a little sweetness in my life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllisonSwan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonSwan/gifts).



> In my defense, SOMEONE on tumblr requested this.

A part of her would like to think that this is a mistake. 

That hooking up in the bathroom during her cousin’s wedding with the best man isn’t the sort of thing a girl like her would normally do. But there’s something poetic about it. 

The best man and the maid of honor. 

This is the sort of thing that cheesy romcoms were written about.

So why miss the opportunity? 

That’s what she tells herself, as she presses up against him, because thinking about anything else might lead to regretting that and that is the last thing Rosaline wants to do. 

Not when he’s kissing her. 

“Thank god, for short dresses,” Benvolio says. His lips against her neck now, and Rosaline feels the words vibrate through her. 

“Thank Juliet is more like it.”

“I don’t want to think about Juliet right now,” Benvolio says. “I want to think about you.”

When a moment later his hand is on her, she has to say that she agrees with him. It’s hard to think about anything other than his hand on her. The way he knows exactly how to touch her, as though he’s done this before.

Which he has.

At the rehearsal dinner.

And after the bachelor party when he was just a little tipsy and he knocked on her door.

And that time they got tricked into being the ones to pick out the cake and barely made it to his car in the parking garage.

And in the dressing room while -

“Fuck, Ros” Benvolio says, cutting off her train of thought. “You’re gorgeous like this.” 

If she had Benvolio’s ego she would say  _ I’m always gorgeous,  _ instead she blurts out the word, “Thanks,” and feels absurd a moment later. 

What is it about this man that makes her forget herself?

She looks away from him for a moment, so she can remember how to speak, saying, “You should do something about it?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Yeah I should.”

When he kisses her it is familiar. Soft and slow, like she’d never imagined a man could kiss her. Like she never imagined a man would want to kiss her.

But he does.

And she wants him to. 

She wants so much more than that. 

She bites down on his lip to inspire him to move and he does. The kiss turning more heated and passionate in a moment, them only pulling apart for air. 

“We’re going to have to be back out there soon,” Rosaline reminds him.

Because as much as she loves foreplay, as much as she loves knowing that he can take her apart inch by inch, as much as she loves that  _ thing  _ he does with his tongue, they don’t have time for that.

She needs more than making out while he fingers her in a bathroom stall. 

“I can be quick,” he insists. 

“Normally men don’t brag about that,” she replies.

Which in turn earns her one of those grins of his, the one that says  _ challenge accepted _ , the one that guarantees she’s going to leave this bathroom with shaking legs and everyone knowing exactly what  they were up to in here.

She considers herself briefly lucky that she can’t flush like he does, his cheeks turning pink showing just how much he wants her. 

Though that’s not the only part of him that shows his want for her. 

She gasps out as he presses into her.

Familiar by now.

They’ve done this enough time that she knows the exact feel of him, the exact way he moves against her, pressing her up against the wall so that he can get a more stable angle.

She makes the mistake of looking in the bathroom mirror, caught by the sight them. His suit rumpling, her dress pushed up against her waist. Their two bodies moving in tandem, synchronized with their want for each other.

He follows her gaze, catches her eyes in their reflection for just a moment, two sets of eyes dark with need.

She kisses him for something to do. 

Brings one hand up to tug his face towards her, his hand tightening in his hair, as she kisses him, greedy and open mouthed. She uses it as a way to keep quiet, to stop from moaning desperate and wanting, choking down her sounds in an attempt to keep a sense of dignity.

So that no one knows what the best man and the maid of honor are up to.

Benvolio does not have her frame of mine.

His loud against her lips, saying, “Ros,” over and over again like a prayer. 

When she replies, “Ben,” it is softer, but carrying the same weight. Betraying the same need. 

Her pleasure comes quickly, overwhelming her. Her head tilting back to hit against the wall, that will hurt later, but in the moment she doesn’t mind. Can’t find it in herself to care. Not when she feels like her entire body is on fire, the greatest rush, the highest high. The sort of high that only Benvolio can bring her. 

He follows her there a moment later.

She can feel the way his hips stutter, once then twice, and how he kisses her again, a sort of lost afterthought, as though she has made him forget how to kiss a woman. She presses her lips against his, soft and steady, as he comes down against her. 

This too is familiar by now.

They linger there for a moment, still together, holding onto each other.

Before finally pulling away and putting themselves back together. 

He zips his pants up and Rosaline pushes her dress back down. 

And then, she makes the mistake of looking in the mirror once again.

There is no way that anybody out there will not know exactly what they’ve been up to when they return, she knows that now. 

The flower pinned to her dress is smashed, there’s sweat beading her brow, her hair pushes flat where it had been up against a wall for the duration of their activities. Whereas Benvolio is flushed, his lower lip swollen when she had bitten against it while lost to the moment, his suit wrinkled beyond manageable repair.

This time when he catches her gaze there is not as much heat there, but a softness. 

This is a man that feels things for her.

Real things.

Things that Rosaline isn’t sure she’s prepared to deal with.

This was supposed to be a fling, a moment of recklessness while they worked side by side on their friends’ wedding, not whatever this was.

Not standing together, holding onto each other in the bathroom at the wedding reception, and her heart aching because she’s not sure the next time they will ever get a moment like this again. 

“How did I get so lucky,” he asks voicing the very thoughts in her mind. 

And she tells him, “I’m the lucky one.” 


End file.
